


Wrapped In Red

by loveinslowmotion



Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Haylor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6001573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinslowmotion/pseuds/loveinslowmotion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With an excessive amount of mistletoe and a surprise up one of their sleeves, Harry and Taylor's first Christmas is set to be one to remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrapped In Red

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Have a... Christmas one shot?
> 
> Hey guys! Apologies for my lack of posting - I've been really busy these last few months and haven't had the time/motivation to get anything finished. I originally intended to have this up before Christmas (obviously) but got stuck a third of the way through and only really found muse for it again recently. I'm making more of an effort now, so hopefully I'll actually get more things done. If you have any prompts, I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me and I hope you enjoy this (mediocre) one shot! xx

 

“For God’s sake, Harry, where did you get all this mistletoe?”

There was a string of it hanging from the light fitting on the bathroom ceiling, which was probably the least romantic place for the kissing prompt. Harry had kindly decorated Taylor’s apartment with it while she’d gone out on an emergency shopping trip and although his effort was impressive, it might’ve been a _tiny_ bit excessive. He’d hung mistletoe in just about every spot he could manage to tie a string.

“Why do you sound like you hate it?” Harry wondered, swinging his legs childishly where he had fallen back on Taylor’s bed. The blankets creased underneath him, tainting the neat job of making it Taylor had achieved earlier in the day.

“Because I’m trying to pee here and out of the corner of my eye it looks like there’s a massive spider dangling down ready to kill me,” Taylor called back dramatically. “Is that one in the _shower?_ ”

Harry suppressed a giggle, the sweetness of it contrasting the hopeful desire that had encouraged him to try for a shared shower. The last time he’d gone for it, Taylor had kicked him out of the bathroom on the grounds that, despite intending on wearing a pair of stockings, she had to shave before they had dinner with her family. She wouldn’t have been able to do that if all he wanted was to press her up against the tiled wall, and she was still tentative about her parents somehow being able to tell. Apparently all the running water and the hours between the two events wasn’t convincing enough that they’d be fine.

In a red patterned sweater identical to the one Harry had on, Taylor emerged from the ensuite a minute later, a wet handprint visible on the thigh of her white jeans. She sat down beside him, tucking one long leg underneath her. Harry reached for her hand and she interlocked their fingers, smiling gently down at him.

“You know all the mistletoe was unnecessary,” she reminded him. Harry pointed upwards with his free hand and Taylor laughed at all the pieces he’d strung on each blade of the ceiling fan. “How many is that?”

“Thirteen.”

Taylor failed to bite back the grin that was forming on her face at his cheesy gesture. She poked him in the stomach and he squirmed, tugging her forwards. She climbed on top of him, elbows propped either side of his head, careful not to be leaning on his fan of dark hair as she gave him one slow kiss. One slow kiss that had him melting into the comfort of the familiar bed.

This year marked their first Christmas spent together and their first without their families. They’d both been terrified to tell their respective relatives about their new plans. It was going to happen _eventually_ , whether everyone was ready for it or not, but even knowing that didn’t take away the nerves of having that conversation.

It wasn’t like they’d _completely_ separated themselves from everyone else over the holidays. The pair of them had spent two weeks in Holmes Chapel and the last two in Nashville, having early celebrations and some well-deserved time out of the spotlight.

Now they were in New York, tucked away inside Taylor’s swanky apartment. Harry’s presence hadn’t gone unnoticed, unsurprisingly. There were candids of him carrying their things inside on all the gossip sites, pages printed in all the trashy magazines. They’d done a lot of growing up since they’d last tried all this, but they could hardly say they were immune to the not-so-nice words of others. Strategically they’d avoided social media so they didn’t have to spoil their first Christmas with reading bitchy tweets and shady text posts. This year was _theirs_.

“Where’d you put my camera, babe?” Taylor asked as she sat back up, to Harry’s disappointment.

“’M not taking any more selfies,” he said, sliding one finger through her empty belt loop. He pulled at it a little but she ignored him.

“But I have one I know you’ll like,” she insisted, her eyes scanning the surfaces of her bedroom. “Is it still in the kitchen?”

When Harry didn’t answer, Taylor started to rise, balancing up on her knees and only meeting his gaze again when his hand found her hip. They exchanged words through tilts of their heads and raises of their eyebrows, silence of facial expressions they had learnt well over the years they’d known each other. Taylor got her way with a, whether intentional or not, fiddle of the hem of her sweater that gave a flash of her toned stomach.

Harry lay waiting on the bed, the swing of his legs starting back up again. _One two, one two, one two._

He could hear Taylor talking in another room, her voice sweetened in the way she always addressed her cats. So far, Harry had received lots of cuddles from Olivia and one scratch up his forearm from Meredith in the couple of days they had already spent in New York. He was determined to get one good hug from Mere without her looking like she would rather fling herself out the window.

Taylor returned without either of her pets, only her Polaroid camera in her hands. She immediately pointed it in his direction, finger poised over the shutter button.

“You guys should make a Christmas calendar,” she suggested, snapping a shot of him once she was closer.

Harry’s lips tugged at a smirk as she tucked the Polaroid into her back pocket. “What kind?”

“I’m thinking,” Taylor said, drawing out the word as she sat back down next to him, “that you’re all in sweaters, looking warm and adorable. It all looks very innocent, until you turn to the last photo and you’re in tiny Christmas boxers. If you’ve got fake tan and body oil on, that would be even better.”

She couldn’t hold back her smile after she spoke, and Harry was poking her leg and grinning back a her, dimples at the corners. “If you’ve got any oil, I can make that happen for you right now – minus the fake tan,” he said, but she didn’t take the bait.

“Imagine how fast a One Direction Christmas calendar would sell,” she said.

“Imagine how fast a Taylor Swift Christmas calendar would sell.”

Taylor wrinkled her nose. “I could never do a sexy calendar and you know it.”

“I’d sell every one of my houses just to see you dress up as a sexy little elf,” he declared.

“It’s funny you say that actually–”

“Do you have an elf costume?” Harry quickly interrupted, sitting up abruptly as his voice went up in excitement.

“No–”

“Pants with “naughty” written on the back?”

“No–”

“A–”

“It’s a surprise,” Taylor said calmly. She smoothed her hand over her thigh, giving nothing else away in her expression.

Harry looked at her with eager curiosity, lasting only a few seconds before he typically asked, “Can I have it now?”

“Patience is a virtue, Harry.”

“I know. I’m _still_ waiting on twelve more kisses.”

Taylor rolled her eyes, though she did give him one of those kisses he’d set up for himself. He smiled into it, hearing the click of her camera.

“Was that the photo I was meant to like?” he guessed, and she hummed a yes. “Should Instagram it.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Absolutely.”

Harry figured it was fair enough, since he had Taylor’s lips on his and the thought of her surprise now bobbing around in his head. He wasn’t exactly the most patient person, which he knew was exactly why Taylor had mentioned whatever she had planned. She _wanted_ to mess with his head.

They kept kissing for a little while, enjoying the freedom they had in their own apartment of complete privacy. Even staying with their families they’d had to restrict their physical contact, since they couldn’t very well be all over each other in front of their _parents_. It was nice to be alone, just the two of them. They’d sure as hell made the most of it as soon as they’d first stepped through the door.

Harry was hoping for more now, but when Taylor pulled back her words were: “Are you getting hungry, babe?”

“Yeah,” he replied distractedly, his gaze on her swollen lips. He’d forgotten it was late afternoon when Taylor had left, not noticing that the light coming through her open curtains was now fading.

“What do you want for dinner? I was thinking–”

“You,” he said. “I’d like to eat you out, please.”

As polite as he may have been despite his interruption, Taylor still swatted him on the arm, trying not to smile too much so he wouldn’t know how much she enjoyed the endearing way he presented his risqué requests.

“Dinner, babe.”

“I am talking about dinner.”

“You’re trying to skip to dessert.”

Harry’s smile was expectedly guilty, and as much as he tried to deter her he couldn’t prevent her from making them a meal forever. He relocated to the couch, mindlessly watching TV while Taylor whipped up some pasta in the kitchen. Olivia had settled herself against the warmth of his sweater, which made it harder for Harry to get up and follow the aroma of freshly cooked carbonara. His stomach – and the three strings of mistletoe hung above the dining table – easily won that battle, though.

Taylor’s nights in the kitchen never failed to be good ones. Cooking was on the long list of things she was unfairly excellent at – the worst Harry had ever seen her do was forget about a cake she had in the over, which, honestly, had been his fault. He always proved to be an awfully effective distraction.

They ate around general conversation, both of them excited for the two sleeps they had to wait until Santa was dropping down the chimney and drinking the milk and eating the cookies they couldn’t seem to stop baking. Two sleeps and then they could say they had spent the special day unwrapping presents and watching Christmas movies and eating too much food together. It was almost like they were kids again with the way the concept had them both giddy in anticipation.

They cleared the table together routinely, working together effortlessly. It was refreshing doing simple things like that. The pair of them could easily make it so they never had to lift a finger, but being normal kept them sane. Being normal together was even better.

So as Taylor flicked over the recent Polaroids she was yet to stick up on her wall, it was almost a cruel contrast that they could happily spend all this time together but sharing it with the world was a risky option.

But maybe it didn’t have to be.

“Babe?”

“Mmm?”

“We need a better one of our matching outfits.”

Harry leaned forward, bumping his shoulder against Taylor’s as he followed her gaze to the photographs spread on the coffee table. “Take it on your phone,” he suggested. “Use a timer.”

Taylor’s eyes lit up and she was quick to jump up and find a suitable spot for a photo opp. She used some books to keep her phone upright on top of a bookcase, a relatively stable set up. It wasn’t like it was hard to find a nice background in her apartment – it was the perfect combination of stylish and homey in every room, thanks to her creative eye and gentle aura.

As per her instructions, they posed in front of the bookcase, taking a few shots before they managed to get the distance correct in the frame. They took some silly ones, Harry’s favourite the picture where Taylor had jumped on his back without warning, but the one she bravely settled on was a serious shot not unlike her cover of _1989_. Arms by their sides, brushing against each other, Harry had had to fight the urge to take her hand as the timer counted down the few seconds they had. Taylor was facing forward, her red lips only slightly apart, while Harry had his head turned to the side, looking away from her in what he had hoped would like artsy. It had worked, apparently.

“Look at your jawline!” Taylor gushed as she swiped back to that one photo. She didn’t actually give him the chance to, tapping buttons without tilting her screen towards him. “Gosh, okay, what filter do you think would look best? Should I leave it in colour or do you think black and white would be better? You’re going to say black and white.”

“Why does it matter?” Harry wondered, inspecting the ends of a lock of his hair. He’d have to get a trim soon.

Looking up, he was not at all expecting to see Taylor’s phone pointed his way with Instagram open. She started bouncing her legs when he didn’t immediately give her a response, which only made the edited photo blur before him.

“Alright, alright, go colour,” he decided. “No need to steal my theme.”

“But what if I’m paying homage to your theme?” Taylor asked as she turned her phone back to herself to fiddle with some more settings. “Would it be acceptable to post it black and white then?”

“Are you seriously posting it?”

“We’re not hiding forever.”

“Are you sure?”

She vaguely nodded. “Done!”

The pair stared at each other, Harry trying to assess what was going on in her head and Taylor trying to gauge his reaction to her impulsive post. “We’ve got a few thousand likes already,” she told him glancing down at her phone that was freaking out in her hand with the amount of notifications she was receiving.

He cut to the chase. “What changed your mind?”

“Umm.” Taylor tucked one side of her hair behind her ear. “I never thought it was fair that we couldn’t, like, act like a totally normal couple. And every time I told you you were insane for wanting to and every time I convinced myself I was inane for wanting to, I was wrong. And it’s Christmas time and everyone’s happy, and I love you, and I want everyone to know and accept that I love you.”

Harry naturally broke into a grin at her words. “C’mere,” he beckoned, and she quickly stepped into his outstretched arms.

“Am I actually insane?” she asked, voice muffled with her face buried in the hair covering his neck.

“Yes,” he laughed. “But in a good way. You’re Taylor Swift, you can take on anything.”

She hugged him tighter, smiling, “I can.”

Even though they were right, Taylor still chose not to delve into the comments that were adding up on the photo. If they didn’t look, she could indulge in her imagination where every single one was supportive and sunshiny, just as if they were two normal people sharing a piece of their holiday experience.

With her phone switched off, she missed both the bad and the (real) good ones, and the couple of curious text from the girls. Instead they shared in some classic bonding time, with a couple of games of Scrabble (all of which Harry lost) and a few rounds of cards. They drank wine and ate festive-shaped cookies and almost forgot all about the mayhem they’d caused the internet to descend into over that one shot of them in matching sweaters.

Then there was the other thing that Harry had set to the back of his mind somewhere along the way.

When they decided to crawl into bed for the night, maybe watch something on her laptop before they went to sleep, Harry was the first one to use the bathroom. Taylor normally took longer and he normally got fidgety, and there really wasn’t enough room for the two of them to share the sink when one was washing their face for the night.

Taylor slunk inside as soon as he stepped out, tilting the door further closed behind her. Harry didn’t pay attention to that or the thing she had tucked under her arm. He just tugged off his jumper as normal, tossing it on top of his suitcase that was sitting against one of the walls. He unbuckled his belt, leaving it still on once he spotted Olivia trying to sneak across the room and onto his discarded sweater. She curled up on top of it, finding comfort in the warmth of the wool and his lingering body heat. Harry smiled at her, making a quick yet quiet attempt to dash out and grab his phone from the lounge.

Olivia hadn’t moved in the time it took him to retrieve his phone, and he captured a picture of the cute little ball of fur prepping herself for sleep. He waved his fingers at her, as if he might get some kind of reaction back. All she did was lick her paw and tuck it under her chin; he snapped another shot.

Standing up from his crouch, Harry inspected the screen, smiling at the displayed photo. He was just thinking of showing Taylor when her voice frightened him.

_“Harry,”_ she called, her tone lifting at the end and drawing out the sound.

He turned on the spot to see her leaning against the doorway to the ensuite, his eyes popping and his phone slipping out of his grasp. It bounced on the floor, making Olivia peek her eyes back open to see what the fuss was about. Taylor was trying to hold back laughter.

“You wanted your surprise early,” she reminded him, voice laced with innocence that he might’ve believed if he didn’t know better.

Instead of dressing down for the night, Taylor had dressed up. She’d brushed her teeth and her hair, swiped on a fresh coat of lipstick that she had every intention of printing all over his body. She’d swapped her cute and cuddly daywear for a red babydoll that was the perfect mix of sweet and sexy, a very Taylor piece.

Harry wanted to be able to say he was admiring the darker-toned lace detailing the bra, but they both knew he was more floored by the mega cleavage she had going on with it on. He never liked being too overtly obvious, but his stare was so blatant that it only diverted once she started strutting over to him and she did a slow twirl to fully show off. Then he was appreciating the matching pants that barely covered her bum at all.

“What do you think?” Taylor asked, and as she reached him she got her answer in the form of a hot (and minty) kiss, Harry’s hands sliding up underneath the sheer material and pulling her in close. She smiled into it, brushing his hair back over his shoulder before she broke from his lips to press kisses to his neck. He tilted his head, sighing heavy already.

“Remind me again why Victoria’s Secret haven’t made you an angel yet?” he managed to get out. He slid one hand down to cup at her ass, squeezing lightly.

“They only hire models,” she explained, faltering slightly at his touch.

“Their loss.”

“Your gain.”

She could say that again. Harry could hardly believe his luck – he had Taylor right here in this crazy gorgeous lingerie, for his eyes only. He had her already sucking a bruise just below his ear and finishing off his job of taking off his belt, and _holy shit_ she was unzipping his jeans and feeling him up through his boxers – his freaking Christmas boxers with tiny reindeer printed all over them. Taylor actually giggled at them once his jeans were off and they relocated to her bed, which would’ve been majorly embarrassing if it had been anyone but her. Thank god they shared the same sense of humour.

They lay together on their sides, just off-centre on top of the covers. Wrapped up in each other, their hands wandered eagerly as their lips connected and didn’t want to part. It was ridiculously easy for them to completely melt into each other, their bodies moulding together like they were made for each other. They kissed long and gentle, tongues slipping in every now and then as an added spark. They could’ve happily left things at that if they didn’t have other more pressing ideas.

“I was saving this for Christmas night,” Taylor let him know at one point, laughing at his answer of, “Please wear it again.” She promised she would.

Harry’s next bright request came to him while he was wriggling out of his underwear, glancing up and noticing the hopeful strings he’d hung up earlier. “Babe?”

“Mhmm?” she hummed as she was leaning across to grab some protection from the drawer of her nightstand.

“How about we change the rules of mistletoe?”

Taylor turned back to him, her eyebrows quirked. She could already predict the nature of his proposition by the smirk on his face, and, y’know, his complete lack of clothing. “I’m listening.”

“One orgasm for every piece.”

A small laugh later, she was nodding quickly, one of the easiest decisions in the world. “Might want to get me out of this then, babe.”

And it was with great enthusiasm that he did, fumbling only a little with the clasp of her bra. He managed the effort of stripping her down in the end, being a little more careful with the precious fabric when he tossed it over the edge of the bed. That outfit was something he _really_ didn’t want to ruin.

When Taylor pulled him down on top of her, she wasn’t quite expecting him to keep taking his time. Harry was kissing her again, his hands now massaging her bare breasts, thumbs rubbing circles over her stiffened nipples. His cock stood hard against her inner thigh, and as Taylor moaned into his mouth having him thrust himself inside her was all both of them wanted. She tried encouraging him with a tilt of her hips, the shifting of her leg against him a little. But when he pulled away it was to meet her eyes for an intense moment, winking at her before quickly shuffling down the bed and settling himself between her thighs for one long lick of her centre.

Taylor gasped, arching her back at the unanticipated contact. Harry guided her legs over his shoulders, rubbing her skin as he lapped at her fervently. He loved going down on her, loved tasting her sweet arousal. He got off on that first swipe of his tongue, that first taste of how much he’d turned her on. He revelled in how wet she was now, how much she clearly wanted him, her hips giving small tilts in rhythm with the movement of his tongue. He soon felt a hand in his hair, massaging his scalp and tugging a little every so often.

Harry loved to watch her when he did this. Right now, she had her eyes squeezed shut and her lips parted, emitting gentle moans whenever he circled his tongue over her tip. Seeing his effect on her never failed to get him going, though as much as he wanted a hand on himself he ignored the need for friction, focusing all on her instead of the little spurts of pre-come he was getting on the bed as Taylor become more restless, the sounds from her mouth growing more desperate and her breathing become more ragged.

Harry was blissfully familiar with the way Taylor looked and sounded when she was about to climax, and it was at that point that he stopped teasing her with the tip of his tongue and pulled away. Literally, she was _almost_ there, and he was pushing her legs off him and sitting up. Taylor carefully opened her eyes to see him retrieving the condom she’d found and sliding it on himself, pumping his hand a couple of times now he had the chance.

“You shit,” she cursed, though she was grinning at him now she realised his purpose.

“My surprise for you,” he said slowly, dimples creasing his cheeks as he smiled back at her.

“C’mere.”

Taylor pushed herself up too, swatting his hand away and taking over. She was steady as she jerked him off, having learnt a messy lesson how quickly she could get him there the first time he’d done this to her.

“I can’t believe you,” she mumbled before leaning in for a kiss, tasting herself on his lips. That was a lie, really – she knew he knew how much she enjoyed edging, and she knew how much he liked to tease. It was almost the perfect style for him, honestly.

When Taylor leaned back again, Harry didn’t take any more time. He pushed himself inside her, rewarded by the long, low moan she gave as he slid in his full length. He gave her a moment to adjust, as always, before he started thrusting into her, rhythm deep and steady.

He liked to draw it out now, trying to stimulate her the most without being too quick. He’d ghost his hands over her sides, slip them between their pressed bodies to touch at her breasts occasionally. Taylor did the same back to him, kissing all over his jaw and running her hands up and down his back and through his tangle of hair. She surprised him with a pinch on the bum, which in turn had him jerking into her hard. Both of their gasps turned into laughs and they both believed they wouldn’t find this unguarded comfort with anyone else.

“How’re you feeling, love?” he asked in a mumble when his concern that he was going to make it way before she did arose. He could feel it with every thrust, and he wanted to make sure he could get her there too, always putting her first. He didn’t prep her for nothing.

“Bit faster and I’m there,” she replied, smile in her voice. She went to kiss him again, but it quickly turned into a gasp of “oh my god” when he pulled himself out almost all the way only to thrust back in as deep as he could.

Their kiss was messy as Harry kept that up, the pair of them moaning and holding onto each other tightly. Their breathing was uneven and Taylor was whining his name against his lips, thrusting her hips up against his as best as she could. He was trying to hold himself together until he felt her muscles tightening around him, one last long thrust into her before trying to finish her off with short hurried pumps into her that had the full length of his cock creating friction inside her.

Taylor couldn’t handle it, her hand balled into a fist in his hair that tugged unintentionally hard as her back arched and she threw her head back into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut as his name left her mouth in a loud moan. Intensified by the way he’d left her hanging earlier, she was completely overcome by her orgasm, waves of pleasure shooting all through her body. Harry only caught a glimpse of it on her face since he was coming hard himself, sparked by the sound of his name.

They lay in a sweaty bundle as they came down from their highs, trying to catch their breath and regulate their lungs again. It took Taylor a little longer; she didn’t open her eyes until she felt him pull out of her, briefly watching as he took off the condom and tied it up, wrapping it in a tissue from beside her bed. She curled up into him as soon as he laid beside her.

With nothing but the sound of their breathing filling the room, they descended into a sense of peace. Their bodies were warm against each other, arms and legs tangling them up into one again. Taylor had her head pressed against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart that had slowed from its rapid pace back to something more normal. She kissed his skin, leaving a vague red print on one of the birds, nothing compared to the smudges on his face that were sure to give them a good laugh in the morning.

They didn’t have the energy nor did they need to make conversation. The “I love you” was there in the way they held each other, how Harry kissed the top of her head and she nuzzled against his chest. In a way, this was just as intimate as the sex itself. They showed they cared without uttering a word at all.

With sleep imminent – Harry thought Taylor might’ve actually already been there – he was soft when a thought he couldn’t ignore came to him.

“Tay?”

“Yeah?” she breathed, sounding tired.

“There’s still, like, at least forty bits of mistletoe up.”

Taylor smiled, tilting her head up and pressing her lips to his gently one last time, saying the word she didn’t have to.

_Later._


End file.
